Could she really read it all? Everything he thought or felt? For some reason, he'd never really considered her access to his thoughts below the surface layers. Now it was dawning on him, how many things she would know about him. Things she'd know about him almost before he had the thought himself. He didn't regret it, but damn if it wasn't an uncomfortable idea, making him self-conscious, as if everything about him was under a spotlight for her perusal. Not "as if." It was.
I can leave no stone unturned, if I so choose.
She'd returned, was standing there next to him, but she'd spoken inside his head. Her lips had not moved at all. He suspected she'd intended to come upon him unawares, to underscore what Thomas had told him. The marks are two-way, but only when she allows it.
As if her invasion into his mind had opened up some of the rooms he himself couldn't open, for the first time he understood his own conflict better. She was a queen, a liege lady, in truth. He was her servant, while his soul burned to give her everything, just for a smile. His sense of honor would keep him at her side even when she drove him mad. But what would keep him protecting and serving her beyond every torment of hell was something she'd be shocked to know, maybe even offended—
His attention snapped to her face as she watched him, her jade green eyes filled with things he didn't understand and didn't want to interpret. Maybe it was good he couldn't read her mind. He couldn't bear her scorn at this moment.
"You consider me yours. No other man's." She voiced the thought he hadn't intended to share. "Be careful, Jacob. You are right. You are my servant. I am your Mistress. Our relationship may be far more intense than that of human lovers, but it is far less equitable, I promise you."
It was like catching mice running out of a cage. He didn't know which thought to chase down and try to slap back into the cage, but it was futile regardless. The bars were gone. There was nowhere to put them. The noise of the mall closed in on him as he struggled with it, and suddenly there seemed to be a lot less oxygen.
"Jacob." Her hand was on his arm. "Breathe deep, Sir Vagabond. Be calm." Her fingers climbed to his biceps, squeezed. "Sshh…"
"I can't… get a handle on it."
"Nothing to get a handle on. That's where you're making a mistake." Her touch stroked, soothed. "It's like… do you believe in the Christian version of God? It's like that, the way they say He is in your thoughts at all times."
"No one really believes that, though." He tried to respond to her gentle teasing in kind, not let the first anxiety attack he'd ever had in his life overcome him. "No one thinks God's in there 24/7, listening to what you're going to eat for breakfast, or watching sitcom reruns at two in the morning with you."
"I won't be, either," she said with a smile. Cupping his face, she brought his eyes to her. When they steadied, focused, she nodded her approval, though she kept stroking his hair from his temples, helping him stay calm as he struggled for his bearings. "Yes, I'll know your thoughts if I'm listening at the time you have them. The main purpose of the mind link is to communicate without using our voices, and to communicate over distance."
You can handle this, Jacob. You can do this.
Her voice or his? His, but she could hear him if she chose to do so.
"I may choose to eavesdrop," she said quietly. "But when I do, most of the time you won't even know I'm there. I've never claimed or desired to be an easy Mistress to serve. If you curse my name, I may hear it, but as long as you act toward me with respect, most of the time I'll allow you the illusion of privacy, the normal range of emotions and personal thoughts inside your head without disruptive intrusion, even when I choose to be there. I don't expect you to be less than human. As Thomas may have told you, over time you'll become far less conscious of it."
Until you lose it. As he weakened, Thomas had spoken of things a man confessed on his deathbed, the staggering sense of loss he'd felt when she blocked their link so effectively he could no longer sense it anymore. It had been like the removal of a vital organ, the severing of a limb.
When Lyssa's eyes darkened with pain, Jacob wished he could have thought about something else, anything else.
"My lady—"
"No." She shook her head, drew away from him. "At least you won't have to worry about that, Jacob. I'll never give you the third mark."
At first he wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. She was walking, and he had to take a couple of fast strides to catch up, take her arm to stop her. "What do you mean? I don't understand. Have I displeased you somehow?"
She looked away, her body tense, wanting to move. "The second mark isn't a guarantee of the third, and it's not necessary for how I need you to serve me."
"My lady, why do you insist on shutting—"
"Jacob," she snapped. The admonition silenced him, but Lyssa saw the anger in his eyes, the hurt confusion. To have come so far, worked so hard, and she isn't going to even give me the chance… What the hell? She can't mean it. She—
She shut down her awareness of his thoughts, unwilling to hear the things that fueled her own frustration. It angered her, his presumption. Almost as much as her desire to do what he wanted.
Coldness invaded her vitals, cutting short the surge of temper. The hair rose on the back of her neck and she went still, surveying her immediate surroundings and then farther out, reaching and looking for the source. Pain rushed in her temples, sudden enough that she froze, caught in the grip of it. No, not now. Setting her teeth, she fought to look past it, to push down the nausea rising in her throat. Perhaps it was caused by what she was sensing, not an impending attack. She didn't know which was preferable.
"My lady." He had her arm, his touch gentle but firm. "I should have brought us a car. Do you need your medicine?"
"No." Lyssa blinked, clearing the haze over her eyes. It was an effort, but she made herself straighten. "We should go, though."
Without prompting, he slid an arm around her, bringing her in to his side so they could walk through the mall, blending with the other young lovers who moved in trilling, giggling packs. Noise bounced off the walls. Thankful for the sunglasses, she closed her eyes, curled her fingers into Jacob's flesh. She heard him tell a security guard they were on their way out when he was admonished for not wearing his shirt. She didn't hear the response, but she was sure it was a male security guard. No woman would have required someone looking like Jacob to wear a shirt unless she was insane.
Where was it? She could feel the presence like a poison seeping through the walls, coating the tile floor, trying to come in contact with her. The source of it would not be inside the mall, however. It would wait in the shadows, knowing she'd sensed it. Staying in the mall would appear as weakness, and she refused to show weakness to this one, even if the effort killed her. It would be equally debilitating to let the creature believe it could get under her skin. Either way, she wouldn't permit it to have an advantage. Couldn't.
Jacob.
She spoke his name in her mind, and was reassured when he tightened his arm around her. He could hear her then.
Before they stepped out the parking deck entrance, she straightened, took his elbow in a more formal gesture. He gave her a glance, but said nothing as they moved into the deck area. He was alert, picking up on her mood, his eyes darting everywhere. She knew they wouldn't see her quarry, though. This one had to be flushed.
"Show yourself, Carnal. Unless you're planning to jump out of the shadows and say 'boo.'"
Jacob stiffened and she touched him with her mind. Follow my lead, and do not disobey me.
The vampire who stepped out was as tall as Jacob, perhaps taller. Emanating a vampire's physical perfection, he'd honed it to a razor-sharp attraction to draw whatever prey to him he chose. His long dark hair had once been short, but apparently he'd realized the style emphasized too well the precisely cut lines of his face, making the cruelty more easily noticed. His eyes, gray and piercing as an ice pick, were mesmerizing enough to seduce, but lacked the warmth for it. His lean body exhibited a tensile strength suggesting a fencer about to step into a ring.
When his eyes swept Jacob, the vampire dismissed him so quickly Jacob wasn't sure he'd even seen him.
His lady stepped in front of him, he noted with displeasure. He'd have corrected that, but her voice erupted in his mind again. Being such a new sensation, he had to take precious seconds to orient himself to it, focus enough to understand the message she was communicating.
Stay behind me. It's inappropriate for a servant to stand equal with his vampire Mistress. Even worse to insult her by standing in front of her. Speak only when spoken to. A servant never speaks when two vampires are conversing.
As she issued her terse instructions, Carnal's gaze was roving every inch of her in slow, deliberate appraisal, lingering in a way that made Jacob itch for a wooden stake. He tried to remain as impassive as his Mistress, but there was something about the way Lyssa held herself that suggested she was anticipating ugliness from this encounter. Jacob had never let a woman stand between him and danger. He didn't care for the feeling one bit.
"This is a new look for you, Lyssa." His voice was smooth, well-pitched. A cross between a radio personality and a torturer for the Inquisition. "I came by your house, intending to leave my calling card, only to find no servant to meet me. I decided to amuse myself in the area until your return and was fortunate enough to be close enough to this place"—his lip curled distastefully—"to detect the most delicious perfume on the air. You." He cocked his head. "Even in your own Region, I'm surprised you would send out such an obvious beacon like that. Your powerful compulsion magic has stirred up quite a few creatures of the night."